A Doctor's Perspective
by basswall2
Summary: Spock wasn't the only one who had reason to grieve at the end of STID. This is how I think Dr. McCoy would have felt. Major Into Darkness spoilers. This is a McCoy and Kirk friendship fic. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

_**I've always loved the friendship between McCoy and Kirk, and I kind of feel like the good doctor got short-changed in the movie. So this is my interpretation of how Bones might deal with Jim's death. **_

_**I don't own any part of Star Trek.**_

Dr. McCoy allowed himself to enjoy a brief moment of exhilaration. The ship had righted itself, and stopped freefalling, and the comforting thrum of the engines could once again be felt beneath his feet. Scant seconds after that had happened, he was finally able to stabilize a young lieutenant who had sustained massive internal injuries after falling from a catwalk during the Enterprise's wild spiraling. The realization that his patient was going to live and somehow, miraculously, so was the entire crew, made him almost giddy with relief. Well, giddy for him, anyway.

His moment was interrupted by the beep of the intercom on the wall. "Dr. McCoy?"

It was Spock's voice.

"Here."

"Doctor, your presence is needed in engineering."

There was something in Spock's voice. If he didn't know the Vulcan better, he would have thought it was a trace of emotion. But a medical team was already headed down there, responding to a report of multiple injuries. "Dr. M'Benga is on his way."

A pause. "Doctor, it needs to be you… It's Jim."

There it was, the emotion in Spock's voice. And though he didn't want to admit it, it sounded a lot like grief.

McCoy didn't waste a second asking for details. He grabbed his medikit and dashed for the door, shouting, "On my way," over his shoulder. Later he would realize that he knew, subconsciously, that Jim was gone from the moment Spock said, "It's Jim." But at this moment, he was still hoping against hope, that his intuition was wrong.

When he sprinted into engineering, he was met by a teary-eyed Scotty. The chief engineer didn't say a word, just pointed toward where Spock stood, stooped, staring at something.

McCoy ran over, dread welling inside him. He didn't see… where was…"Jim!" There, on the floor, behind a glass partition, lay the body of his best friend. It didn't take a physician to tell that the man behind the glass was dead. Jim's blue eyes, so vibrant in life, now stared unseeingly at the wall. "Oh, god. Jim," he murmured brokenly.

Jim's life, at least the years Leonard had been a part of, flashed before his eyes. Meeting Jim on the shuttle to the Academy, and becoming almost instant friends. Spending evenings at a local bar. Patching Jim up after he tried to pick up the wrong girl at that bar and got into a fight. Actually, that had happened more than once. Getting used to the nickname "Bones" that Jim had insisted on using for him. At first he had found it mildly irritating, but he eventually resigned himself to it. And now, he'd never be called Bones again. What he wouldn't give to see those blue eyes regain their spark, and to hear his friend's voice again. He was overwhelmed with grief, and he suddenly felt the loss so keenly that it was hard to breathe. His best friend was gone, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

He felt anger suddenly edging out the grief. He turned on Spock. "Damn it, Spock! Why didn't you call me sooner? I could have done something to save him!" His voice was full of anger and despair.

The First Officer turned to look at the doctor, his normally passive face etched with sorrow. "If there had been anything you could have done, I would have called you, Doctor. There was no way to save him."

McCoy was unprepared for the grief he saw in Spock's eyes. Seeing it caused the anger to leave instantly, leaving behind just anguish. The Doctor sagged down to his knees, suddenly overcome. When he trusted himself to speak, he whispered, "What happened? Why is he in there?"

"He saved the ship," Spock answered. "He repaired the warp core. To do it, he had to go into this chamber, which was filled with radiation."

McCoy swallowed hard. "He gave his life to save us."

"Yes."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Spock straightened and turned. "Mr. Scott, please do your best to restore our transporter capabilities."

"What are you going to do?" McCoy asked.

"I am going to get Kahn."

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Scotty had insisted that Jim's body be removed by a hazmat team after the compartment had been cleared of radiation. Leonard had just nodded, and headed up to sickbay to await the body of his best friend. He made into the turbolift alone, put his head in his hands, and cried like a baby.

The doctor took a moment to collect himself before entering sickbay. He had no doubt that his team would know that the worst had happened, the instant they saw his red eyes and tear-streaked face, but he needed to present a professional demeanor. Throwing himself into the role of doctor and medical examiner rather than friend, was the only way he was going to get through the autopsy he knew he would have to perform.

He thought he was ready as he could be when the captain's body was brought in. He was willing himself not to feel, to put his emotions aside until he could get through the awful task he had ahead of him. His job was not made any easier by the grief of the crew surrounding him, including the team that had brought Jim in. Some were openly weeping, others stood silently by in shocked disbelief. They had lost their captain, their leader, their friend.

Dr. McCoy took a deep breath, assumed a clinical manner, and unzipped the body bag. His professional façade crumbled almost instantly, and he was once again overwhelmed by a deep sense of personal loss as he looked at the still, lifeless body of the man he had come to regard as a younger brother. He wasn't ready for this. He would never be ready.

His legs felt like they might give out, so he shakily walked around the bio-bed and dropped into his chair. For a horrible moment he was certain he was going to lose it in front of his medical team and the other crew members who were standing around in various stages of grief. This was not the first time Jim had laid on a bed in McCoy's sickbay, looking like death. But there was always something the doctor could _do_, another avenue to take, a different procedure to try. There had never been a time when he felt completely helpless, because he had always had hope that the next thing he tried would save Jim's life- and up until now he had always been right.

But this, this situation was monumentally unfair. McCoy hadn't even had a chance to save Jim, was never even given the opportunity to use his years of medical experience to bring his best friend back from the brink of death. He didn't know how he was going to perform his medical duties when it was just too late.

Suddenly, Leonard's grief-filled reverie was interrupted by a soft purring sound coming from behind his left elbow. What the hell? He turned his head and saw the forgotten tribble. And there it was, in the form of a small life-form that looked like a furry throw pillow. The ray of hope he had thought it was too late to find, was right within his reach.

_**Well, there it is. This is as far as I had originally planned to take this story, just up to the point where McCoy realizes he might be able to use Kahn's blood to save Kirk. Which, by the way, I thought was an extremely contrived plot device. Kirk is in the middle of interrogating Kahn, and he suddenly stops and says, "Dr. McCoy, what are you doing to that tribble?" Really? Where did that come from? And then after the ship has been tossed around upside down and sideways, the tribble is still somehow still sitting right there, cooing away. **_

_**Anyway, I loved the movie as a whole, so that is really my only criticism. **_

_**I might decide to fill in the two weeks Jim was in a coma from McCoy's perspective also, if anyone has any interest in reading that.**_

_**If so, review and let me know. Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks so much for all your reviews and requests for me to continue this fic. They are so appreciated, even though I really think I might have gotten in over my head with this one. I have no medical knowledge at all, and even if I did, well… I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have had much experience with a situation like this. You know, blood transfusions from super men don't come along too often in real life. So anyway, I did my best. Please read and review and let me know what you think.**_

He knew he had to do it now. The Enterprise would be docked in just a few minutes, and emergency medical personnel would swarm onto the ship. They would empty sickbay, moving the patients to a planetside hospital. It was a good thing, of course. There were more injuries and fatalities than he and his beleaguered staff could handle, and given the damages done to the ship, the survivors would be much better off in a fully equipped hospital on Earth.

But what he was getting ready to do was completely illegal, and if he waited, chances were he wouldn't get another opportunity. The doctors at Starfleet Academy Hospital would be much more concerned about following protocol and regulations. They wouldn't understand why this was so necessary, why he had to try, regulations be damned.

He looked over at Spock, who was watching him intently, the smudges of green blood on his forehead making him look even more formidable than usual.

"Please proceed quickly, Doctor. We do not have much time." McCoy closed his eyes for a brief moment. Ordinarily he would have a quick retort, something along the lines of, "I know we don't have much time, you pointy-eared hobgoblin, now be quiet and let me do my damn job." But not only did he not have the heart, given what both of them had just potentially lost, he also felt a great sense of relief in hearing the Vulcan urge him to take this action. Spock, with all his logic and scientific knowledge, approved of this hair-brained plan of McCoy's. It gave him hope that this wasn't some insane pipe dream. It might actually work.

If Spock's blessing wasn't enough, Uhura added gently, "Dr. McCoy, nothing can hurt him now. All you can do is make things better than they are."

And it was true. As painful as it was to think about, Jim couldn't get more dead.

Dr. McCoy nodded, took a deep breath, and punched the code on the cryo-tube to take the captain out of cryogenic stasis. Miraculously he was able to quickly find a vein in Jim's arm to insert an IV, something he had not been confident about given the frail state of the captain's body. He picked up a cylinder filled with a thick, dark red liquid, and inserted it into the tube connected to the IV. He pushed down on the plunger at the top of the cylinder, and they all watched as the solution he had synthesized from Kahn's blood slowly made its way down the tube and into Jim's body.

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Dr. McCoy wasn't entirely sure what to expect from the doctors at Starfleet Academy Hospital. He knew many of them well, having worked with them for several years while he was at the academy, but doctors can be somewhat territorial at times, and this was no longer his territory. He knew he wasn't guaranteed to have the autonomy he was used to on the Enterprise. It just depended on which doctor happened to be in charge of Jim's case.

Two orderlies from the hospital were carefully maneuvering Jim's anti-grav stretcher through the halls to the room that was waiting for him. Dr. McCoy watched their progress with critical attention, but so far he had found no reason to complain. They were competent and efficient, just the way he remembered the staff at SAH being when he was there.

A middle-aged man with a shock of curly graying brown hair introduced himself to Dr. McCoy at the door of Jim's room. "Dr. Leonard McCoy? I'm Dr. Sonny Jamerson. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand and McCoy shook it. "I'm going to be over-seeing all the patients that are being brought from the Enterprise, but I see you've already filed a request to continue treating…," he paused here and consulted his PADD, "James T. Kirk, and to function as his primary doctor."

Damn straight, McCoy thought, but he knew he needed to be tactful in this situation. "Yes. The patient is in critical condition, and he has an unusually high number of allergies to medications. Given his fragile state, I believe I am in the position to give him the best possible medical care, since I have been his physician for several years now." And I'm his best friend, McCoy added silently. I will do anything in my power to save his life.

Dr. Jamerson glanced back down at his PADD and nodded. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Dr. McCoy. Especially since our personnel is going to be stretched so thin with all the incoming patients. Incidentally, I still have not received James Kirk's complete file. I understand the most recent information was temporarily lost due to some damage to your ship's computers?"

McCoy nodded gravely. The truth was that the hospital had not received the Jim's complete medical records because he had not yet decided what to put in them. But the damage done to the Enterprise made for a convenient excuse. "Our technicians are working on getting his records back," McCoy lied smoothly. "I will make sure to send them to you as soon as I get them."

"Ok, well I am going to put Mr. Kirk back into your capable hands," Jamerson said with a smile. "I'll just have to be kept informed of his progress. I'm sure you know the procedures. You will just have to send a report daily, so I can just make sure you're following hospital regulations. Other than that, you will be solely responsible for his treatment. "

McCoy smiled back, but he felt skeptical. Dr. Jamerson had used the word "just" three times in ten seconds. That sounded to him like a man who was trying to downplay his role in a situation. But he supposed this was the best he could hope for, given the circumstances. "Well, I'll just make sure I just keep you informed," he said, letting his southern drawl slip through a little.

Dr. Jamerson was obviously satisfied with this response because he shook McCoy's hand vigorously once more. "It's nice meeting you, Dr. McCoy. Our staff is at your disposal. Please let me know if there is anything you need." And with that, he was gone, leaving McCoy to once again put his complete focus on Jim.

He walked over to the biobed where his friend lay hooked up to life support, and looked at the monitor. No change that he could see. He ran his tricorder over Jim's body. Damned if he hadn't done a number on himself. If he'd tried to commit suicide, he could hardly have done a better job. His cells were completely irradiated, and he had radiation burns on his chest, back, and arms. The captain also had three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a concussion. Khan. That bastard.

It was such irony that the very madman whose actions had ended Jim's life was the only hope in bringing him back again.

The most disturbing thing about Jim's condition was his lack of any sort of brain function. Even a patient in this deep of a coma would have some detectible brain waves, unless… The unwelcome thought came, even though he tried to suppress it. Unless Jim is brain dead. He felt a lump forming in his throat, and he angrily blinked back tears. "Damn it, Jim. You have to do your part too, you know. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."

The only response was the hiss of the ventilator and the quiet, steady beeping of the heart monitor.

**Please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you, thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! I am so glad to see there are many other fans of the amazing friendship between Bones and Kirk. Please read and let me know what you think of this chapter. Thanks!**_

_**The only thing I own in this story is Dr. Jamerson. And he's not all that exciting.**_

McCoy was bent over the captain, tricorder in hand, focused on the read-out on the small screen. He was so intent on the readings that the unexpected voice saying, "Bones," almost caused him to drop it. He looked down and saw the captain looking up at him, smiling.

"Jim! Thank god." He stared in amazement at his best friend, looking whole and healthy. Bones choked back emotion and said thickly, "I wasn't sure I'd ever hear that damned annoying nick-name again."

Jim grinned. "Oh, come on now Bones. You can't get rid of me that easy."

Still amazed at the sudden recovery, Dr. McCoy swept the tricorder over Jim's body again. Vitals were good, organs functioning normally, even the broken ribs seemed to have healed miraculously. The captain was the perfect picture of health. Except… a sudden flash across the screen… what the hell?

"Bones… help me."

McCoy looked up at Jim, saw the fear in his blue eyes. He glanced down, and saw radiation burns suddenly erupt on Jim's chest and arms. "Bones!" Now it wasn't just fear, it was pain, excruciating pain reflected in those eyes.

"Jim, it's ok, I'm going to take care of you." The monitors were beeping out desperate alarms, warnings that things had just gone terribly wrong. His tricorder was spitting out information almost faster than McCoy could process it… lethal radiation levels, burns on half of Jim's body, heart, lungs, and kidneys all failing.

"Bones…" This time the voice was weak, almost inaudible. The doctor looked back at his best friend's face, and realized that he was seeing him through glass. Jim was back in the radiation filled compartment, slumped against the wall, reaching, futilely to try to touch his friend's hand through the glass.

"No!" Bones yelled his voice cracking. "We got you out of there, I'm trying to save your life, damn it, what the hell is going on?" He put his hand on the glass where Jim's was. "Just hang on… please hang on… we're going to get you out of there." He saw the blue eyes begin to fade. He was losing him again.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I tried." He saw Jim's light go out, and the hand on the other side of the glass slid lifelessly to the floor.

"Nooo!" McCoy was awakened by his own hoarse scream, and sat up, panting, heart pounding, his face wet with tears. He was completely disoriented, and it took him a moment to realize that he was sitting on a cot in the residents' room at the hospital. A quick look around him showed that mercifully, he was the only person in the room.

"Damn, it," he said wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "Damn it to hell." He took a deep breath and tried to dispel the last fragments of the dream. It had seemed so real, as dreams often do. He felt angry that he had just put himself through that- the joy and relief at seeing Jim recover, followed by the familiar feeling of intense grief as he watched his friend die for a second time.

McCoy glanced at the chronometer on the wall. 1000 hours. He'd slept for about three hours, which was longer than he'd planned. Too bad the much-needed slumber had to end with such an unwelcome nightmare. He took another moment to collect himself before finally swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up slowly. He needed to see Jim.

When he walked into the captain's room, he was startled to see that Jim wasn't alone. Though the lights were dim and the visitor was standing with his back to him, he knew immediately from the rigidly erect posture that it was Spock.

"Dr. McCoy." It was a statement, not a question, and Spock said it without turning around.

"What, do you have eyes in the back of your head now? Or are you just psychic?" McCoy answered grumpily. The dream had shaken him and put him in a bad mood, and he was not in the frame of mind to deal with Spock right now.

"Actually doctor, as I'm sure you are aware, Vulcans have much more acute hearing than do humans. I heard your somewhat distinct gait, and I combined that with the knowledge that you are 75.5% more likely to enter this room than any other medical professional in the building, which led me to the conclusion that…"

McCoy cut him off. "Alright, alright, Spock. I was kidding. Geez." He knew he deserved the long-winded, boring explanation the Vulcan had just given him. After all, he hadn't exactly been friendly to Spock when he walked in. He sighed and decided to be a little nicer. "So, how long have you been here?" he asked as he aimed his ever-present tricorder toward Jim.

"I arrived at 0800 hours," Spock answered. There was a pause. "How is the captain?"

"No change yet. He's still not able to breathe on his own, still no brain function." Damn, it sounded so much bleaker now that he had to say it out loud. What he said next really hurt. "To be honest, Spock, I'm not sure this is going to work."

The Vulcan stood there silently for a moment, studying the captain, reflecting. "As I recall, it took some time before the tribble showed any reaction to Khan's blood. And since it is the case that human anatomy is much more complex than tribble anatomy, I think it is logical to predict that it may take an extended period of time to see a result in Jim. Do not give up on the captain yet."

Bones gave Spock a lopsided grin. "Well, you can knock me over with a feather," he said. "I never thought I'd see the day when you're more optimistic than I am." Once again, Spock's input had given him hope. Spock thought what McCoy was doing was _logical_. The doctor, on the other hand, when he was being honest with himself, had to admit it felt more like a desperate act than a logical one.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Doctor, why would I attempt to knock you over with the horny epidermal outgrowth of a bird?"

McCoy's sarcastic reply was cut short when he heard his name being called from the doorway. He turned to see Dr. Jamerson standing there. "Dr. McCoy, would you mind stepping into my office for a moment? There is something I need to discuss with you."

McCoy looked at Spock. "I will stay with him until you return, Doctor."

"Thank you, Spock," McCoy said. _For supporting my insane, desperate idea_, he added silently. He followed Dr. Jamerson out of the room.

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Whatever Jamerson needed to speak with him about, McCoy knew he wasn't going to like it. He recognized the manner of a physician faced with the task of delivering bad news. Hell, he'd been on the other side of the situation enough times to know what it looked and sounded like. Using a firm tone to dispel false hope, but tempering it with an understanding manner. Being as sympathetic as possible while still maintaining a professional distance. He knew the drill, and he didn't like being on this side of the desk.

Sure enough, Dr. Jamerson sat across from Dr. McCoy looking compassionate and uncomfortable. "Dr. McCoy." He cleared his throat and then continued. "Last night I received James Kirk's most recent test results. As I'm sure you know, in addition to a litany of other medical issues, he does not have any detectable brain activity." He paused, giving McCoy a chance to speak, but the Enterprise's CMO stayed silent, waiting for Jamerson to continue.

Jamerson cleared his throat again, and stood up to get a drink of water. He was stalling, Leonard could see it. He offered a glass to McCoy who just shook his head. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, formulating a convincing argument to what he knew the other doctor was going to say next.

Dr. Jamerson reseated himself, and began again. "So, given Mr. Kirk's status…"

"Captain Kirk," McCoy interrupted forcefully. He was angry, though he knew his anger was misdirected.

Jamerson blinked. "My apologies," he said quickly. "I didn't mean any disrespect." Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead.

In any other situation, Dr. McCoy would have empathized with this man. He knew how hard it could be to give someone this kind of news. He knew Jamerson was just doing his job. But when it came to the life of his best friend, he somehow lost his perspective.

Jamerson cleared his throat one more time and got to the point. "Given _Captain_ Kirk's latest brain scans, I think you will have to agree that in order to follow government mandated regulations, we have no other choice than to declare him brain dead, and remove him from life support." This all came out in a rush, as if he was afraid McCoy would interrupt him again.

It was exactly what Leonard had expected him to say, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. He tried to adopt a professional tone, but knew he had failed when he heard his own voice. "Dr. Jamerson, I'm sorry but I have to disagree with you. It is my professional opinion that, if he is given more time, Captain Kirk may still have a chance to recover. And as his physician, I will have to insist that he stays on life support until I decide it is time to take him off."

The doctor on the other side of the table sighed, maintaining his compassionate demeanor. "Dr. McCoy, I understand your unwillingness to take your captain off of life support. I read the report of what happened to him, and he is a true hero. However, as _professionals_," he emphasized the word, hoping to appeal to the practical medical expert in McCoy, "we have no other choice but to face facts. There is no possibility that James Kirk will recover from this. He is brain dead. He has been for over a day now, and as you well know, that kind of damage is irreversible."

Dr. McCoy stood up. He did not want to listen to this. How could he explain to Dr. Jamerson that Jim had been given the blood of a super human? Even if he came clean about everything, he doubted it would make a difference. He knew how crazy it would sound. It wouldn't buy Jim more time, it would just get McCoy removed from his case. "Your professional opinion has been duly noted, Dr. Jamerson, but as I am Captain Kirk's primary physician, the decision is up to me, and I am going to have to stick to my earlier statement. It is too soon to take him off of life support." He turned to leave.

"Dr. McCoy." The voice had lost most of its sympathy and was now authoritative. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that government regulations mandate that patients who have been without brain function for more than twenty-four hours must be taken off of life support and allowed to die with dignity. I understand that it may be difficult for you to comply, given Captain Kirk's heroic act, so if you cannot do it, another doctor will be assigned the duty." It was meant and understood as a threat. If McCoy couldn't follow the regulations, he'd be taken off of Jim's case and someone else would make sure that he was taken off life support.

Seeing the effect his words were having on the other doctor, Jamerson's tone softened. "Doesn't your captain deserve to die with dignity after what he went through to save his ship?"

McCoy felt a lump start to form in his throat. He hoped to god that Jamerson wasn't right. Please, let me be doing the right thing, he thought. He tried to push his emotions down before speaking, but again he failed. His voice came out pleading, desperate. "Dr. Jamerson. I know everything you have just said is true, and in any other situation I would agree with you. I can't explain it, but I just need to give Jim more time. I can't give up on him yet. Please just give him… another twenty-four hours. If he isn't showing any signs of brain activity by then, I will take him off of life support myself."

In his heightened state of emotion, McCoy had called him "Jim" instead of "Captain Kirk". It was unintentional, but in the end it was what swayed Dr. Jamerson. His expression softened, and the sympathy on his face suddenly went much deeper than professional duty. "He is your friend, isn't he?" Jamerson asked quietly.

Knowing it would do no good to deny it, McCoy just nodded sadly, conflict of interest be damned. "My best friend," he answered.

Dr. Jamerson sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he considered. "All right," he said finally. "You have your twenty-four hours."

_**Ok, so I struggled with this for a couple of days, but I decided to go ahead and write the story that was in my head. I know that Jim would have been brain dead if he went several days with no brain activity, and of course that would mean he was gone. However, even in the timeline of the movie, he would have had irreversible brain damage considering how long it would have taken for the compartment to be cleared of radiation, for someone to get him out of there, put him in a body bag, take him to sickbay, for McCoy to have the idea of using Khan's blood, for him to be put in the cryotube… you get the idea. After 10 minutes without oxygen, too many brain cells have been killed for a person to recover, and I'm pretty sure all of that would have taken longer than 10 minutes. So obviously, Khan's blood had to be able to regenerate brain cells and restore normal brain function along with everything else. All of this is to say that I decided to go ahead and go with the no brain waves plot device even if it's not realistic. This is science fiction after all. Maybe a little heavier on the fiction than the science in this case, but still. **_

_**Please, review! Thank you!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Ok, this was super hard to write. It's hard to put even a fictional character through this much emotional stress. I pretty much had this done a few days ago, but kept adjusting it. Please review and let me know what you think.**_

It had been twenty hours since McCoy's conversation with Dr. Jamerson and Jim still did not have any brain activity. A small bit of progress was noted, however, by the night nurse. Jim's excretory system had suddenly kicked into gear, evidenced by the presence of several ounces of urine in his catheter bag.

McCoy tried to be thankful for small blessings. He tried to view it as a sign that Jim's body was slowly recovering thanks to Khan's super blood, but it was hard to be optimistic when the progress he desperately needed to see was not forthcoming.

The news of the twenty-four hour time limit had quickly spread through the crew of the Enterprise. Dr. McCoy had debated telling them, but in the end he decided it would be best for them to see it coming. They'd all been on the worst kind of emotional roller coaster over the last few days. He didn't want the crewmembers closest to Jim to be blindsided if the worst happened.

And it looked as if the worst may truly happen. He'd been trying to brace himself, prepare mentally, but he had no idea how he was going to get through the next few hours. How could he be the one to take Jim off of the ventilator? He didn't have the strength. But he knew that if Jim had to be taken off of life support, he would be the one to do it. As heart-wrenching as it would be, somehow the thought of letting some other doctor, who didn't know Jim, didn't care about the great man and amazing friend he had been, be the one to take that final step was more than McCoy could bear. It would be the final medical act he could perform for his best friend.

With two hours to go, the senior officers of the Enterprise gathered morosely in the waiting area down the hall from the captain's room. They wanted to be there to say goodbye, something they'd all been robbed of the first time around. All of them of course, but Spock, who had already had the emotionally grueling experience of seeing his best friend die. The Vulcan had been conspicuously absent from the hospital since that morning when he had heard the news that the captain did not have long to live. Uhura said he was in a deep meditation. No one could blame him for not wanting to see Jim die twice.

With an hour to go, there was still no change. Dr. McCoy informed the officers in the waiting room that without a miracle, he would have no choice but remove their captain from life support. It was time to say their goodbyes. He left Jim alone with his crew as they individually went in to tell him what he had meant to them. The doctor told them that he wanted to give them all privacy, but the real reason was that he couldn't make himself witness the grief of the people who had called Jim captain and friend. His own grief was too much to bear.

With twenty minutes to go, McCoy knew it was time to say his own farewell. He had held out a slight ray of hope that Jim would suddenly show signs of life at the last minute, but he knew he had to face facts. He walked slowly into Jim's room, and without holding out much hope, he ran the tricorder over him for one last time. The results were not encouraging.

He took a deep breath, and tried to say goodbye to his best friend. "Jim." He stopped and angrily wiped his eyes. He wanted to tell Jim that he had never had a friend who had so much spirit, was so selfless, so accepting. But what came tumbling out was an expression of his anger at Jim leaving. "Damn it, Jim. I tried everything. There's nothing else I could do to save you. I needed you to meet me half way. But you didn't. It's like you died twice, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it." He took a shuddering breath. "You saved all of us, damn it. I was supposed be able to save your life, but I failed." The anger suddenly disappeared, leaving him with nothing but grief. And he knew what he was really trying to say. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so sorry I failed you. I want you to know that I'm proud of you. Pike would have been proud of you too. And I won't let you be forgotten. I'll tell my grandkids about you someday, tell them how the best friend I ever had…" Here he stopped, completely overcome with emotion. There was more that he wanted to say, but if he wanted to be in any shape to complete the medical procedure ahead of him, he was going to have to pull himself together. "Goodbye, Jim," he said softly.

With five minutes left to go, Dr. Jamerson came into the room, obviously making sure regulations were followed. He stayed in the background, standing at a respectful distance, letting McCoy and the medical staff from the Enterprise make the final preparations.

Dr. McCoy had decided that he was going to remove the ventilator instead of just disconnecting it from the power source. Jim would have hated having a machine help him breathe, and McCoy wanted to let him go peacefully, no tubes and wires, just James Kirk.

With one minute to go, McCoy removed the IV from Jim's arm and then removed the endotracheal tube from his throat. The heart monitor stayed in place so the official time of death could be recorded.

Jim took several shallow breaths on his own after the ventilator was removed, and then gasped for air for a moment before falling silent and still. He had stopped breathing only three minutes after being removed from life support. Dr. McCoy put his head in his hands and waited for the monitor to signal that Jim's heart had also stopped. Beep, beep, beep…beep… beep… His heart rate was slowing, and there was not a dry eye in the room as the medical staff waited to hear that final extended tone that meant Captain Kirk was dead.

Beep…beep…beep… silence. Bones steeled himself to call the time of death, waited miserably for the monitor's alarms to go off. Instead, after what seemed an eternity, there was suddenly another beep as the machine registered a heartbeat. Dr. McCoy looked at the screen in confusion. Was there something wrong with the monitor? Beep…beep…beep, Jim's heart had begun slowly beating again. He whipped out his tricorder, trying to figure out what was going on. In all his years of experience, nothing like this had ever happened. Hearts don't slow down, stop, and then start again on their own.

Beep, beep, beep. The tricorder agreed with the monitor, and showed Jim's heart rate slowly increasing. Dr. Jamerson had left his position against the wall and had his tricorder out too, staring at the read out in amazement. The two doctors looked at each other in disbelief. Jamerson went back to studying the screen, and Dr. McCoy looked down at Jim just in time to hear him gasp for air. What the hell? He was trying to breathe on his own!

"Let's get him on oxygen, immediately!" Dr. McCoy looked up in surprise. Dr. Jamerson had shouted the command a split second before McCoy could get the words out. Suddenly, the room was abuzz with activity, as oxygen was administered, an IV was reinserted, and a second monitor was placed on Jim's finger. The data coming from all the monitors and tricorders was being urgently analyzed by five different medical professionals at the same time, and they all came to the same conclusion. Jim's vitals were _good_. His heart beat was strong and regular, and his oxygen levels and blood pressure were rising. He was taking deep, strong, regular breaths, now that he was on oxygen.

As if this turn of events wasn't staggering enough, Dr. McCoy suddenly noticed another blip on his tricorder screen. What the hell? He stared at the screen for a full minute, making sure it wasn't a fluke, hardly daring to hope, afraid he was setting himself up for disappointment. But there it was. He knew he wasn't mistaken, but he still needed another pair of eyes before he could truly believe it.

"Dr. Jamerson," he said in a half-whisper.

The other doctor came over and glanced at the readout. His eyes widened, and he looked at McCoy in amazement. "Delta waves!" he said excitedly. "Your captain has regained some brain activity!"

"He has brain activity," McCoy repeated, almost to himself. For a second, he had been afraid he was dreaming again, but saying it out loud made it seem real. Fifteen minutes ago, Jim had been brain dead and on life support. Now he was breathing on his own, and his brain function was returning.

Jamerson shook his head. "I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago, but I wouldn't know what else to call this."

I would, thought McCoy. Super blood. But aloud, he said, "If anyone deserved a miracle, it was Jim." He turned to one of the nurses that was standing nearby and grinned. "Go tell the crewmembers in the waiting room to get in here," he instructed. He added quietly, "Damn it, Jim. If you die again, I'm going to kill you."


End file.
